Intro to my one woman show… Exclusive!

Well I’m in so much pain I can’t begin to try and sleep.

I’ve always dreamed of doing a one woman show.  I love to act, and write, I’m far better at monologue that dialogue for some reason.   

 I love you to read this and let me know what you think.
Lissy Lis’s one woman show… The beginning…
I’m feeling torn. Torn between trying to get a good nights sleep so I don’t feel shitty in the morning, and staying awake as long as I can to put off the agony of the morning alarm ringing in my ears. It’s 2am and I’ve decided that a good nights sleep is vastly underrated. Morning sucks harder than a no hands spaghetti eating contest.  

Have you ever had that dream? The one where you are rushing to get to work? I get that when I’m subconsciously panicked about oversleeping. It’s the one where I’m trying to leave the flat, packing my bag anxiously with work essentials, but those essential items are strewn across the room, I’m frantically hunting a hairbrush, my phone, keys, sandwiches, diary, eyeliner, my cats bowl, a cheese grater, until I realise I’m now 3 hours late. God knows how I did it but I’m out of my house, I’m rushing down the road when I come to the stark, horrific realisation I haven’t brushed my hair at all. I have sex hair, wild, knotty and matted at the back. I hunt through my bag relentlessly for that brush but I can’t find it. 

 I feel somewhat narked that I missed the part of the dream when I got my scruffy hair do, but the lucidity never lasts. 

 Oh god. My shoes! Where are my shoes? I can’t go to work barefoot can I? So I decide to call in sick. I’m trying to type numbers into my phone but I press a 0 and then a 6 appears on the screen, I delete the 6 and press 0, then a 9, 99, no a 0, 999 appears and the police automated system is literally telling me I have prank called them. No! I didn’t prank you my phone malfunctioned, oh god what if they notice my shoes, my hair! Oh god, run!
But I can’t run can I? I’m trying to run through glue, thick viscous, invisible glue. The harder I try the harder it is to move at all, I’m doomed. I’m surely doomed. I get on my knees and I’m crawling like a shoeless hobo with hooker hair down the high street, desperately clutching at the kerb, pulling myself towards the road I urgently need to cross when sirens and blue flashing lights surround me, whirring knee-knorrs getting louder and louder and louder until.  
Hang on. I’m in bed. I roll over and press snooze.
Snooze really is an amazing thing isn’t it? It amazes me how many times I can press it without even realising 2 hours have gone by. 
Well that’s it.  What do you think?  Do you have any tips? What would keep you entertained for a whole show?  Would you like me to post a performance video?


I survived the Kent Earthquake 2015 – a poem.

T’was not quite 3 o’clock, when I had quite a shock

As I woke from my dreamy slumber.

The flat it did shunt, Craig awoke with a grunt

as the ground shook from way down under

I said “oh my gawd.  It’s not like we’re abroad”

where you expect to get frights, like bumps in the night.

Twitter said 4.3, a tremor enough to make you wee

when you’re innocently counting some sheep

We had a quick hug, then got us all snug

Rolled over and went back to sleep.

By Lissy Lis